


Aegis of the Faith

by Herbrarian



Series: New Orders [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, Exposition, F/F, Grand Cathedral, Mage-Templar War, The Chantry, Val Royeaux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbrarian/pseuds/Herbrarian
Summary: Previously: The Nevarran Accord is broken, the Circles are dissolved, the Order is lost, and Divine Justinia prepares for this new Inquisition to come.





	Aegis of the Faith

Her undersecretary glides into the room. Giselle is on his heels, her hands clasped in front of her, her head bent slightly in supplication. It is utterly characteristic of the revered mother. As long as Dorothea has been aware of Giselle, the other woman has managed an air of serene distance no matter the circumstance. A composed regality clings to her: it had been that way since she was a Supplicant. It was that attitude that always drove the Mothers in the seminary to irritation and has always intrigued Dorothea. 

Dorothea begins to rise, to greet the woman; but instead The Divine disciplines her muscles, remains sitting in the armchair, hands casually draped over the ends of the rests. The Divine waits as the secretary announces Giselle and watches with half closed eyes as the Mother approaches her. The Divine lifts her hand in an imperious greeting.

"You have been long gone from the Sunburst Throne, Mother, one can only begin to imagine what seems more important to a near itinerant cleric than the requests of her superior."

Dorothea's voice is harsh to her own ears and her secretary swallows and stares hard at the wall, undoubtedly leary of seeing a display of The Divine's famous temper. 

For her part, Revered Mother Giselle barely blinks, but merely steps forward and sinks into an overly complicated bow, nearly prostrating herself on the floor before the feet of The Divine.

"The Divine has requested my presence, and I have arrived. It is with the deepest regret that this meager servant offers her presence without meeting the expectations of the Holy Mother. I humbly beg your forgiveness in the light of the Maker, Most Holy." Giselle's genuflection rings into the room, her voice pitched to carry even though she faces the floor. 

The Divine regards her, her mouth impassive, her eyes steely and as distant as she can make them. The undersecretary steals a glance toward the Divine and then quickly adverts his eyes to return his gaze to the far wall, seemingly willing himself small, waiting to be dismissed. But Dorothea sees it: holds the tension of the moment longer for his benefit. 

"What darkness has kept you in the field, Mother? Certainly the world is chaos, but even now our forces seek the discipline and comfort of my Office, and yet you defer a recall: why?" The Divine intones. 

Slowly, Giselle's torso lifts, undoubtedly to better pitch her voice, but her eyes stay at the hem of Dorothea's robe: "Holy Mother, I was doing as the Chant dictates, focusing the love of the Maker in what are the most trying of times.  I hold no arrogance to believe I can serve the Bride by sitting attendance on Most Holy:  I have no wise counsel to offer.  I simply believed my services too humble. I beg forgiveness if I have overstepped, Most Holy." 

Giselle waits, her eyes cast down, her shoulders remarkably relaxed for one so contrite. 

"I see," The Divine says simply. "Well, rise, and tell us what you have seen of the world so we may have some compensation for your absence." She moves to stand, to walk to her desk, and directs a waving hand at her secretary, "Bring tea and the Left Hand." The man bows briskly at the waist, gratitude in his posture to be dismissed from the room. Dorothea sighs slightly; she knows very well Leliana is in the next room. It will buy them more time while the man looks. 

Dorothea retreats to her desk, watching the room from her peripheral vision. Giselle remains kneeling on the floor, but the slight cock of her head says she tracks the secretary's retreat from the room and the slight up tilt of her chin says she also registers when the door latches close. 

The Divine looks up, finds Giselle's eyes return to bore into hers. They stare at one another for endless moments, Giselle slightly curious and assessing, Dorothea cautiously impassive. Finally, Giselle breaks the silence:

"May I stand, Most Holy?"

The Divine nods imperiously and then watches her rock effortlessly back to her heels, balance on the balls of her feet, and rise elegantly into a gracious and severe column of Chantry robes. 

Mystified, Dorothea asks:  "How do you always manage not to dislodge your hood and cap?" She swallows and remains cautiously erect, her breath shallow as she waits to see how Giselle will answer her. 

The light plays off of dusky skin, always the color of the finest cacao mixed with cream, and Dorothea's eye follows the color contrast of the crisp white of the starched hood against the woman's jaw. Giselle's hands open and flex as they clasp gently in front of her. 

“If you had ever paid attention, you would know there are pins.” Giselle’s voice is soft and despite the sharpness of the words, her tone solicits a smile from Dorothea.

Giselle breathes in deeply with a wry smile and Dorothea's shoulders relax and she smiles as she exhales. Dorothea crosses around the desk and steps to the Mother. Cautiously she lifts her hand and grazes her fingertips along the other woman’s cheekbone. “By the Bride, it is good to see you, _ma lumière de vie_.” Dorothea touches her thumb to the line of Giselle’s mouth, tracing the contour. For a heart-wrenching moment, the other woman does not move and Dorothea fears that it is has been too long for such intimacies.

But then Giselle lets her eyes drift close and she leans into Dorothea’s hand, swallowing hard: “too long,” she returns in a near whisper, fearful of the ears in the walls.

Dorothea reaches out to her hands and squeezes. Giselle returns the gesture, grasping fiercely, “We have a few minutes before anyone comes. Tell me, how have you been feeling?”

Giselle opens her eyes and considers the pale blue of Dorothea’s, “I have been having good days. The sickness seems to have fled. The Artemisia tonic has done what the traders said it would do. My strength is up, I am less tired and my appetite has returned, somewhat: I have not had a cause for complaint.”

“I think even if you had cause, you would not to me.”

Giselle answers her only with a smile and drops her eyes to where Dorothea’s hand lays clasped between her own. “It is not my privilege to complain to Most Holy about the frailties of this body.”

Dorothea smiles tightly: "Is that all that I am?" she near whispers into the silence.

Giselle does not answer directly and simply offers, "I missed our meeting last year. I regretted your trip was cancelled, but I was glad you were tending to Kirkwall."

Dorothea sighs and nods her head, squeezes the other woman's hand affectionately, and pulls from her grasp, gesturing to the settee. They sit, knees near touching, hands hovering on legs, but not daring to touch the other. 

Dorothea searches for the words she must say. But she has prepared this in her mind so often, the words are ready: "So much flows from Kirkwall, it has proven pivotal for us."

"The reconstruction goes well?"

"Yes, but it is not enough to push us above the chaos in which we swim."

"The clerics speak of the presence of Knight-Commander Rutherford with you. I was surprised you would bring him in; I would have assumed he was more valuable left to oversee the rebuilding than preparing for a Conclave." 

"Ser Cullen has taken a new post here, with me, and will prove invaluable in these times of dissension."

"With you?" Giselle says, clearly enunciating each word. "Is he to become the Right Hand? Is Lady Pentaghast returning to Navarre?"

Dorothea chuckles: "No, Cassandra could not be persuaded to leave my side by a herd of wyverns. Ser Cullen has taken a different posting, one without title." Dorothea carefully looks away.

"So," Giselle whispers, "the rumors are true: there are Knight-Divines?"

Dorothea smiles and nods, "And besides myself, and those loyal few, you are the only person who knows, Giselle. Guard that secret well."

"But word of what Rutherford has done in Kirkwall is all across the Waking Sea, keeping the Order from flying apart and taking the city with them. Surely the Knight-Vigilant is at your disposal to tamp the fires of this dissension. Why remove Rutherford at such a crucial time?" Giselle's tone betrays her incredulity.

Dorothea breathes slowly through her nose, closing her eyes to find the quiet her words will shatter: "The Knight-Vigilant no longer resides in the capital," she whispers. The room is bright with sun and seemingly out of keeping with The Divine's utterance. Giselle's face falls and turns ashen. Her spine rounds out slightly, losing the erect arc it usually holds as the other woman's shoulders slump. 

"Oh, Dorothea," Giselle breathes in a sigh, eyes gone glassy. "Then the rumors are true."

Dorothea's head snaps up, but she says nothing. Her jaw tightens, falls slack, and she nods. "He left the capital four months ago without listing an itinerary with Roderick. Two weeks later he sent a messenger with a statement of a progress through the Southern Ferelden Chantries and we have not heard anything new in over six weeks."

Giselle looks aghast: "That is madness. How can it have gone so far? What is the Templars' purpose?" 

Dorothea rises and crosses to her desk, removing a key from around her neck, and reaches to open a narrow, shallow drawer. Her hand moves to release a hidden mechanism and the flush front shoots open as the catch releases. She fingers down several missives and pulls out a letter which bears the great seal of the Knight Vigilant. She holds out the paper as if it carries the Taint and waits for Giselle to take it from her hand. 

As the other woman's head bends to the letter, Dorothea turns to the window and looks over the neatly manicured garden hedges. It swells a lump in her throat to know how precarious the hold on this all has become, and on her watch. She expects Giselle to finish reading, rail and demand answers, and then flee the office of the Divine, seeking her removal and excommunication from the Chantry. It is no less than Dorothea deserves for the risks she has taken, the wheels she has set in motion. 

It is an utter surprise, then, when a hand slips into hers and raises her fingers to lips for a gentle kiss. "Ah, _mon couer_ , you have been so alone in this."

Dorothea turns and faces Giselle, clasping the darker hand in both of her pale ones. Giselle reaches out and touches her face, her thumb stroking over the bow of Dorothea's lip.

"Yes. Leliana does what she can to help, but it is not the same." Dorothea brings Giselle's hand to her own lips and breathes in deeply the long gone scent of this woman, but not forgotten. 

"We have still a few minutes?" Giselle murmurs. Dorothea nods, her throat tight. "Then share your burden with me, _mon couer_." 

"Oh, Gee, there is so much to tell, and I fear what you would think of me if you knew it all. I have built a slope, and the shale is shifting."

Giselle nods and moves to the settee, asking in gentle tones, "Lambert has not simply disappeared as the Mothers believe, has he? He is dead." It is not a question, but a fact, and Dorothea nods mutely. "Did the Nightingale . . ." Giselle's question hangs in the air, and Dorothea negates it with a nod.

"No, but we do believe it was assassination. Following the incident at Andorel's Reach--"

"What happened at Andorel's?"

"Lambert ordered an army of Templars to attack the mages sequestered there. We had identified it as a safe haven for the Grand Enchanter, impenetrable we thought, but it became a death trap when Lambert attacked with Templars. I would not have imagined he could muster so many. Regardless, he disappeared in the night, but the morn when he would have been first noted absent, in that drawer you saw me open, I found this written the day before he died," and Dorothea moves to the desk and pulls a letter with the great seal of the Seekers of Truth.

Giselle stands, takes it, and reads; she gasps and drops to a chair: "He broke the Accord, not Lucius?" Dorothea nods. "But how did this arrive?"

Dorothea continues, "Found in the drawer, the lock unspoiled: I suspect someone who walks the Fade shifted it there."

"A mage?"

"No, it is too subtle of an act for our Circles. A Tevinter or, perhaps, a spirit, but someone that acts against us. When Lucius took the post so soon after--the pronouncement came on the heels of the messenger that brought news of Lambert's death--I kept this unsettling letter to myself, even Leliana does not yet know of its existence. I had hoped Lucius would choose differently. I was foolish."

"No, _mon couer_ , you simply held faith. Faith may be foolish, but it is what the Maker most delights in from us, so how can we do anything but hope and have faith?"

Dorothea breathes deeply and her face relaxes into a smile. "I have missed you." Dorothea nods to herself and moves to a chair next to the other woman, her heart and her truth.

"Then I must be here, Dorothea. You prepare for the Conclave you have called. I have been helping apostates in the Hinterlands, Circle trained and otherwise, find sanctuary in Redcliffe. I will be able to help you analyze the factions."

"Mmm. Teagan?" At Giselle's nod, she continues, "He has been very helpful. I believe the Ferelden King influenced the hospitality: he holds a soft spot for the Grand Enchanter that I am not sure he fully understands, unless I mistake Leliana, and then perhaps he does. Yes," she returns to the moment from her musing, "I will call it for Sacred Ashes. It is appropriately neutral and far from this ridiculous civil war of Celene's. But," she places a hand on Giselle's, "you must not be there, _ma vie_."

Dorothea perhaps expected anger or disappointment from her oldest confidante and intimate; but she is surprised to see only sadness. "Why?" Giselle asks.

"In case I lay my own trap that is my undoing. Should the worst come, we will be without structure or leadership. You must help Sister Leliana, forge it all with her, shape what is to come. The Circles, the Order, the Seekers: they are all broken and with them our Chantry festers. Something new will begin; it will be the start of an Inquisition and from it we must find new orders to sustain us if we are to survive beyond the Dragon Age."

Giselle lifts both of her hands and traces the tips of her fingers over Dorothea's brow, moving to cup her face, "I will do this for the Chantry we both love so much, but know that only my feet and my hands go, my heart remains with you," and she tips Dorothea's head, laying a kiss on her brow in promise. “I am ever your faithful servant and your friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Create Order #22


End file.
